Specially (Safe) Training

The check-in area was full of. . . people.

To the surprise of no one.

While I waited my turn, Kit floated around in joy. Eyes alight, she stuck her tongue out at someone. When he didn’t respond—you know, because he can’t see her—she moved to the man enrolling the volunteers. I watched, amused, as Kit tried the same thing on him, only to be distracted by the metals hanging off his shirt. I’d seen some of them before from my father’s uniform, but this man had way more than my dad. I chose to focus on those, though, instead of the figurine-sized toy floating around him.

“Name?” he asked, eyes appearing dull. Having seen that same expression on my dad’s face, I knew better than to let that fool me.

Knowing that man was observing my every move, I straightened. “H-Hosino Riki.”

Was I supposed to be able to look cool and say my name correctly? People these days. Always asking so much.

Correcting myself, I stood there, face flaming, as he checked whatever list he had in front of them. He was less intimidating like that, eyes on something other than my dumbass. After sorting everything out, I was directed to another area. where I had to face the worst beast of all:

Paperwork.

It was less thorough than I’d have expected from the government. Most of it just wanted basic information: my age, my ability, and the specifics that come with that. I’d have thought they would have already had that information, them being the reigning authority of the country, but what do I know? Who was I to question the Japanese army? It would only take a few minutes to do, anyway. While I finished that up, Kit wandered out the door. Knowing no one could do much of anything to her, I wasn’t worried.

After signing the page, I reviewed my work. Somehow, my handwriting actually looked legible this time. That was definitely a win. Last time I’d done paperwork was when I applied for my job at the toy store. Hopefully this form wouldn’t take two drafts for the officials to be able to read it. Satisfied, I rose just as Kitsune returned. Before I could react, she slapped a paw next to my name. The art added an enhancing color to the page, though I was sure they wouldn’t see it that way.

“Kit!” I yelled, earning me some choice looks from the other volunteers. Lowering my voice, I continued, “what are you doing?”

That innocent look drained all my irritation in record time. “Signing the papers!” Taking a breath, I stared at the page. Maybe they would think it was a doodle–a very realistic doodle. Nothing says professional like scribbles on a page, right?

A guy could dream.

Sighing, I moved to the front to turn in the form. More prepared for the man’s watchful gaze, I was proud to hand them off without stumbling. I mean, I didn’t really say anything this time, but that was beside the point. I still didn’t flinch when he saw Kit’s signature, even if I was remembering every time my father had used that exact same face with me. It’d never really boded well for my future.

“What is this?” he asked, pointing to her dirty pawprint.

“That’s my name, sir,” I said. “‘Hoshino Riku’.”

Said it right, this time! There’s hope for me yet!

He narrowed his eyes at me. Having had many such contests with Kitsune, I held his gaze steadily. I had the sudden urge to blow in his face. I could already see how that would play out: he’d stand up, narrow those laser-focused eyes on me, and tell me to leave. Or maybe I’d accidentally spit on him. Could I be arrested for something like that? I hoped not.

Realizing I wasn’t going to give in, he gave me the victory in our staring battle. “Head to the room behind me and wait for further instructions.”

Relieved he didn’t question the giant animal track on my government paperwork, I moved onward. Walking down the halls, I half-expected someone to tell me to leave. With how dark, and how empty the area was, I felt like a ninja from the movies. Then again, those movies had someone who knew how to fight worth a dam with, say, real weapons. With that in mind, I imagined some kind of top-secret office but, to my surprise, I found myself outside.

The area was mostly open. Other than a long table, the only obstructions were these little huts and walls. Honestly, it felt more like a paintball arena than anything else. One so big I felt like no amount of running would let me reach the end. Unfortunately, the little mounds in the ground would make it hard to go very fast. My legs hurt just thinking about it. I had a pretty bad track record of tripping over random stuff, a hazard of being more focused on toys than literally anything else.

“Hey, sloth!” a female voice rang out. “Hurry it up, will ‘ya?”

Looking around, I saw a woman with her hands latched to her hips. Military drones hovered around her. Her uniform labelled her as a Teleporter pilot, from the badge on her shirt to the words on her sleeve. Her expression told me if I didn’t get in line with the others, she’d use her powers to take me on a not-so-nice getaway. What really struck me was the emblem of her troop: a vibrant star. I couldn’t remember any groups in the military with that symbol.

I had just gotten into position when the man from the front came out. “That’s all the ones for you. Have fun.” With that, he left.

She turned to us, a fucking terrifying grin on her face. “You’re my bitches, now.”

Take me with you. . .

Slowly walking up and down our line, she began, “I don’t know what brought you here today: honor, prestige, a dare. None of that matters here. The thing we need most in this fight is reliability. Someone we can count on to keep their head in a real battle. To test this, we’re having a bit of a. . . specialized training course.”

That didn’t sound good.

She pointed at the long table. “You may choose any weapons from there. Those and your powers are the only things you may use. These drones,” she pointed to the ones near her, “will observe you so I don’t have to. They aren’t the only ones, though, so be careful.”

“What if we get hurt?” I heard someone ask.

“We have Menders on standby.”

“What if it’s fatal?”

“Then you’ll die.” This lady made it sound like the most casual thing in the world. You know, like she didn’t just casually accept our deaths.

What a comforting notion.

As soon as she gave the okay, people were bolting to the tables. It looked like one of those videos I’d seen of a Black Friday sale. Everyone was shoving against each other for the best weapons, which was stupid given how many were still on the table after they left. Not wanting Kitsune to feel overwhelmed, I hung back. Apparently, that was the wrong move seeing some guy immediately sauntered up to me.

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” he sneered.

I looked around, confused as hell. “I’m just standing here.”

“Yeah, like a coward,” he taunted.

What was this guy’s deal? “Do you have a problem with me, sir?”

“You think you’re all that, huh?” He shoved at me.

Oh, he’s an idiot! It all made sense.

Holding my hand out, I had no issues pushing him back. Angry that I dared to defend my personal space, he tried to get past me. But I’d seen this movie before. Naoki and I had watched at least twenty of this same storyline from pirated American movies and, frankly, I was tired of it. I grabbed his shoulders firmly, looked him in the eye, and said one thing to him:

“No.”

I wasn’t about to get caught up in the insecurities of a man-child. Seeing more room near the table, I jogged towards it, ignoring the weirdo’s angry retort. Not that I could hear it, given how unclear his words were.

If you’re gonna talk shit, at least make it coherent.

The table really had it all. I could see swords that would make my father proud. On one end were ninja stars. I considered them for a moment, my experience with toy darts giving me decent aim with projectiles. Just as I was reaching for them, my eyes caught on some simple ninja spikes. Smaller than the stars, they were more accurate in size to what I was looking for. Testing their weight, I found they were both smaller and lighter than average for what they were. Still, they reminded me of better days: competing with Naoki to make the best shot, practicing our trickshots when we were bored.

The man-child came up and quickly chose a sword. He made a big show of grabbing a taser—why that was even an option remained beyond me. Smirking at me in some embarrassing attempt to intimidate me, he pointed at the taser, then to me.

Starting off with more enemies than friends, I thought. Cool.

The Teleporter blew a whistle, making us all turn. “You all have forty-five seconds to find a good spot in there.”

She spread her arms. “Good luck.”